


Domesticity

by RiversEnd



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-20
Updated: 2015-10-20
Packaged: 2018-04-27 08:20:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5041021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RiversEnd/pseuds/RiversEnd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Early Saturday morning... an empty coffee tin... Dorian realizes just exactly where his life has taken him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Domesticity

**Author's Note:**

> I can't remember exactly who/what inspired this fic, but I was in serious need of some fluff. So I thought I would share. Please enjoy! 
> 
> Unbeta'd... so any and all mistakes are mine. Let me know if you see anything, and I'll fix it.

Dorian glared at the empty coffee tin as if it had personally set out to offend him this morning.  It was bad enough that he was up this early in the morning.  That there was no coffee to be made just made the entire situation even more unbearable. The entire morning had been a mess, one thing happening after the other, each one darkening his mood even further.

First, he had woken alone. 

It wasn't just that his bed was empty. Max was nowhere to be found in the apartment.  He wasn't in the bathroom. Nor was he in the kitchen. Dorian had even checked the study, thinking that maybe Max had brought home some extra work to go over during the weekend and had gotten up early to work on it.  But no.  He was nowhere to be found. 

A month ago, he wouldn't have found this strange. Then again, a month ago he would have been waking up in his own apartment, surrounded by his own things, not waking up in an apartment that was halfway between familiar and strange. The two of them, after having dated for over a year, and after extensive searching and drama, though most of the drama was on Dorian's part, had finally found a place that was suitable to make their own.  Since moving in together, Dorian had not once woken up alone.

Second, he was hungry.

Normally, after waking up, Max would cook breakfast while Dorian was in the shower, getting ready for the day.  In fact, Dorian could not remember a single morning where Max didn't cook breakfast for the two of them.  It wasn't something extravagant.  Not really.  No, it would be a simple breakfast of eggs, bacon, and toast. Sometimes it would be French toast.  Now that the weather had started turning colder, oatmeal had begun making an appearance on their morning menu. 

Had this been before moving in together, Dorian would simply have made some coffee, skipping breakfast entirely.  It wasn't that he didn't know his way around a kitchen. Living on his own after having been disowned by his family, he had learned at least the basics. He could heat soup. Eggs and toast were not terribly difficult.  Still, it was difficult to cook for one, so he had eaten out more often than not. Max, however, had objected to the extravagance of eating out constantly, preferring to make simple meals at home for the two of them.  Dorian, after waking up to an empty apartment, had not felt like cooking in the least.

Which led him to where he was now, glaring hatefully at an empty coffee tin.

"Oh for the love of the Maker," he grumbled, throwing the tin roughly down on the counter.  They had just been to the store a few days earlier. Why hadn't the coffee been on the damned list?

As he continued to rant in his frustration, he failed to hear the door to the apartment open and close.  Nor did he hear the approaching footsteps of Max as he entered the kitchen, chuckling softy to himself at the sight of his lover, wearing only a pair of flannel sleep pants and throwing a small tantrum over the offending coffee tin.

He gave a small, undignified yelp when Max's cold hands wrapped teasingly around his middle, his frigid lips kissing just beneath Dorian's ear.

"Where in the Void have you been?" he demanded as he swatted at Max's hands that were still caressing his chest and stomach. "And why are your hands so cold? Get them off me!"

"I noticed we were out of coffee. Since I was the one that forgot to put it on the list, I walked to that little corner coffee shop you like so much to get you more," he said with a teasing smile.  "I know how you are without your morning caffeine."

"Yes, well, I have no breakfast, either," Dorian pouted.

"Then I'll just have to do something about that, won't I?" Max replied, giving Dorian a quick, chaste kiss. "Now how about you go take a shower, and I'll have some eggs and bacon ready for you when you get out."

"I want oatmeal."

"Then I'll make oatmeal."

With a small smile of contentment, Dorian returned Max's kiss just as chastely before turning from the room and heading towards the bathroom to clean up.  It wasn't until he was standing under the water of the shower that the easy domesticity of their entire exchange, of how things had progressed in his life to create such an occurrence, hit him.  He nearly collapsed, his knees going weak with the revelation.

He had had so much in his life growing up. As the pampered heir to a wealthy Tevinter family, he lacked nothing.  He had gone to the best of schools.  Lived in the best of neighborhoods in the best of mansions. He had worn the best clothes of the highest fashion and driven the best of cars.  If he wanted it, he could have it in his reach easily. Yet despite all of that he had never truly been happy.  He had only wanted one thing.  His father had seen him as shameful, deviant, not worthy of being his son. All Dorian had to do to keep his lifestyle, and his father's love apparently, was to deny who he really was.  If he had just married as his father demanded, he would still be living in luxury, not scowling at empty coffee tins early on Saturday morning, wondering where his lover had gotten off to and why hadn't coffee been on the shopping list when they went to the store earlier that week. 

As far as he was concerned, the trade was well worth it.  He had never been more rich than he was now, and he would defy anyone to tell him otherwise.

Quickly, he finished his shower and, slipping on a pair of silk lounge pants that he knew draped across his figure most seductively, he exited the bedroom and headed to the kitchen.  Breakfast could wait.  He wanted to continue this domestic moment and thank Max for this rather rare, very wonderful gift, and yes, he truly considered it a gift. One he had never actually thought he would ever receive.


End file.
